annoying flashlight again, peering too close at Finn. The bright light hurt. “So,” the doctor said, trying too hard to sound casual, “anything new come back to you?”
“Vague impressions, but nothing useful. Nothing like my name, or my address, or what I do, or why I’m here.” The list was depressing.
“Well, now, it hasn’t been that long.” Searle cued Finn to go through the silly-feeling exercises he had done at every visit—things like pushing and pulling against the doctor’s grip. Physically, he was healing as well as could be expected. His brain wasn’t being nearly as cooperative. “Still dizzy?” the doctor asked.
“Only if I stand up too fast or move my head too quickly. And when I’m tired. Which seems to be a lot.” Finn was no fan of having to recite his current weaknesses. It was good to be out of the hospital, but he still felt like an invalid.
“All to be expected.” Searle made some notations on a chart. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s a smart choice to be at Amelia’s. You ought not to be on your own for the next few days, given that you’re a fall risk.”
That pronouncement sank into Finn’s gut. Old people were fall risks, not him.
Searle raised an eyebrow. “You don’t want to end up back here, do you?”
Had he been that irritable in the hospital? “No, sir.” Searle’s expression told Finn he hadn’t been a dream patient.
Searle took off his glasses. “And I realize this may seem like asking a lot, but I’d like you to stay off the internet. We have Lucy and the sheriff’s office working on your identity. You fishing around cyberspace for clues isn’t the best use of your energies right now. The last thing you need is some false piece of information sending you down a stressful rabbit hole.”
That seemed unreasonable. “But...”
Searle cut him off. “I understand this is uncomfortable for you. But, son, you’re going to have to trust the healing process. Think of it this way—right now, your brain knows more than you do. It’s going to give up secrets at a pace we can’t determine. Force things, and you may end up making it worse for yourself. You’re in no danger, you’ve got Amelia helping you—which means you’ve got all of Little Horn in your corner—so I see no reason to rush this.”
Can an amnesiac fire his neurologist? Finn didn’t much care for the advice he was getting, but even he knew there weren’t other options at the moment. He was stuck in the here and now whether he liked it or not. “I hate this,” he pointed out, petulant as it sounded.
“I can understand how you do. But the sooner you make peace with it, the better off you’ll be.”
I’m stuck in a small town with the Queen of Christmas and no idea who I am or how to get home, Finn thought darkly. Right now I got a pretty low bar for “better off.”
Amelia had just enough time after her visit with Lizzie to look in on poor Ben Stillwater and say a prayer for the still-unconscious young man. It reminded her that there were worse problems than questionable weddings. And speaking of worse problems, one look at Finn’s face outside Dr. Searle’s office told Amelia that clearly she hadn’t had the worst afternoon of the day. The frustrated knot of Finn’s eyebrows made him look years older than when she’d dropped him off before Lizzie’s.
“That bad?” she asked.
“He made me do eye exercises that made me sick and dizzy. He told me I’m a ‘fall risk’ and to be patient and stay off the internet.” Finn growled and headed straight for the door. “What’s wrong with me that I can’t sit in a chair and move my eyes without falling over?”
She hurried to keep up with his long strides. “You had a serious knock to your head, Finn. A concussion and all. That’s going to take time to heal. You are going to have to be patient.”
Finn gave her a look that displayed how little patience he had.
She was almost afraid to ask, “Any breakthroughs?”
“He showed me the list of missing-persons reports from the sheriff’s office to see if any of the names felt familiar.”
It didn’t take Lucy’s skills to guess the answer. “Nothing rang a bell?”
“I could be any of those people and not know it. I’m useless to find even my own name on a list.” He furrowed one hand in his thick brown hair as if he could squeeze the answers out with his fingers.
Amelia knew stress wasn’t helpful in his situation, but she had no idea how to calm Finn down. “Well, he did say none of the missing-persons reports matched your description, so isn’t it possible your name wasn’t on that list?”
He stopped walking to glare at her. “Yes. No one is out there looking for me. I’ve dropped off the face of the earth and no one has even noticed. You can imagine how comforting that is.”
Amelia had spent the better part of last year wanting to disappear. Here was a man who actually had, and he was twelve times more miserable than she’d ever been. There’s a lesson in that, Lord. Thank You. But help me help him. “I can imagine how lonely that must be. I’m glad you’re staying with us and not going through this by yourself. I’m glad to help you, however I can.”
“There isn’t anything you can do, Amelia.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and resumed walking toward the car. “There isn’t a solution for this.”
She grabbed his jutting elbow, stopping him again. “That’s because the solution for this is time. You just need to hang on until the first bits of memory come back—and they will.”
His eyes were so sad. “How do you know they will?”
She didn’t, of course, but she refused to believe he’d be living under the weight of a blank slate forever. “I just do. My intuition is legendary, you know.”
He didn’t exactly roll his eyes, but his face was far from confident. Hopeless was a better word, and it jabbed into her chest.
“You didn’t die out there in the woods. You’re alive and healing. I just came from visiting a young man named Ben Stillwater in that same medical center. He fell from his horse and is in a coma, not walking around like you are. You’ve a lot to be thankful for, Finn, and maybe you’d be better off focusing on all you have instead of parts you’ve lost.” She hadn’t planned a lecture, but someone had to shake him out of this harmful dark funk. “Why, Gramps would give his eye teeth to have your strength. Even Bug is jealous of how you can walk up the stairs.”
That almost made him laugh. “Your dog is jealous of me?”
“Haven’t you seen him standing at the bottom of the stairs looking up toward your room? He used to love to sleep in the sun in that room, and now he can’t make it up there. I’ve seen him watch you when you go up. He’s jealous.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, but at least now it was more in puzzlement than anger. “And this is supposed to make me feel better?”
“I
